Aozora
by Smashing Successor
Summary: Hilda runs away from home to find her little piece of the sky. A "Tenki no Ko/Weathering With You" crossover AU
1. Chapter 1

Most of the answers in Hilda's inbox are spam and super unhelpful. Figures that's what she gets for asking the internet for help.

_No way, not without an ID_

_Lol nbdy gonna hire a minor even if ur 16 r u stupid lolololol _

_Stay in school kiddo_

_Sex worker_ _always an option just saiyan_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She deletes every single message except the last one, mainly because it makes her snort and choke on her last fry. It's stupid and crass, but hey, she'll take her chuckles where she can get them, especially now that her money's practically run dry. That last milkshake is what did her wallet in, and maaaan does she regret it now, but it's the third night in a row she's camped out at this 24 hours McDonald's, and if she has to have just french fries for dinner AGAIN her stomach's going to scream, and she's going to scream along with it.

And now all this thinking is making her head hurt. With a sigh, she lays her head down on the greasy table. She'll deal with the zits tomorrow. Or never. Whatever comes first.

It shouldn't be this freaking hard for a girl to find a freaking job that isn't a sex worker or sweatshop slave in Garreg Mach. It's the largest city on Fodlan for crying out loud. It's supposed to be the city where dreams come true, according to all the movies and tv shows she's binged. Or, more specifically, the city where _her_ dreams were supposed to come true. Far far away from the boring countryside, far away from parents who don't care and an obsessive brother who cares too much.

It was supposed to be the one place where it didn't feel like she was _suffocating_.

Instead, all she feels is balls to the walls tired. And wet. Ugh, does it ever stop raining in Garreg Mach? She's sick to death of the feeling of moist, squelchy socks. And being the genius that she is, she's only got the one pair because genius over here thought she'd be rolling in the cash within the first day and she'd have enough dough to buy all the socks she wanted.

Ha. Hillarious. She can't even buy tic-tacs with the change left rolling around at the bottom of her purse.

The pressure behind her eyes is killing her, and it sucks. Everything sucks. She's tired. She hungry and cold and sick, and it sucks, the rain sucks, Garreg Mach sucks, and all she wants to do is just _breathe._

Even if it feels like she's drowning in the rain.

"Um... e-excuse me...?"

Hilda's never lifted her head faster from a table and ahhhhhh, crap, sudden bright lights, that's just great for her headache, yeah, thanks.

"Look, I bought some stupid fries so you can't kick me out, I'm a customer."

So maybe Hilda's feeling a little crabby, but it's been three days since her last warm shower, and she feels sticky and uncomfortable and gross, so whoever the poor sap is, they're just going to have to _deal_.

Said poor sap turns out to be a poor underpaid fast-food worker who flinches back at the harsh tone in her voice.

"Uhm, n-no, that's f-fine," she stammers out, looking one stiff breeze away from keeling over herself. Seriously, Hilda could probably use the circles beneath her eyes as a sleeping bag. "I-I'm s-sorry, I didn't- y-you looked, uhmm, asleep... and I didn't know how to w-wake you and... and...umm, w-well..."

The girl sets the carton down on the table. Big Mac. Smells delicious. Hilda would know. She's been in here long enough that she's gained the ability to differentiate a quarter pounder from a grilled chicken from smell alone. Life skills to keep.

"I can't pay for this." It physically hurts to say. Hilda can just imagine her stomach crying big fat tears right now, screaming in the way stomachs do when she has to tell it NO.

But the girl just shakes her head, a few strands of blue hair slipping out of her untidy braid. She tucks them behind her ear, but they end up falling out again. She doesn't notice.

"On the house. You looked like you could use a... umm... a pick-me up."

Hilda blinks. This coming from the girl who looks like one slip away from a trip to the ER. Carefully, she pops the carton open. Candid Camera may have been a decade ago, but YouTube prank compilations are still alive and kicking, even in this day and age. Besides, hidden cameras nowadays can get pretty small without sacrificing their resolution, even if they have to be packed in between two slices of lettuce and a sad excuse for a tomato.

But there's nothing. No secret camera, no hidden audience, and no laugh track playing in the background as the joke to her life. Just plain old burger from what she can tell.

Well, even if it's a joke, it's a pretty weak one because a free burger is still a free burger, so, whatever.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

But when Hilda looks up, the girl is already gone.

Ooookay. A little rude, to be honest. But then again, not like Hilda's been the queen of hospitality lately, and also, free Big Mac. So, whatever.

She takes a bite, and it's not an understatement to say that it's the best damn burger she's ever tasted in her life because it is honestly the _best damn burger she's ever tasted in her life._ If her stomach had tear ducts, they'd be overflowing right now.

_Thank you, underpaid burger girl, I'll never look down on the fast food industry ever again._

Some of the sauce dribbles down her chin. Ugh, grossssss. But the napkins are at the other end of the McDonalds, meaning she has to get up and feel her socks squelch in her shoes. Extra gross. Maybe there's like, a spare tissue left or something in her purse. She reaches down into her purse, unclasping it.

She rifles around. Stick of gum, her phone, tube of lipstick that's cracked in half, so now it's just a tube of trash or a $50 rose-gold highlighter, take your pick. And a business card.

Business card? Curious, she takes it out, holding it up to the cheap LED lights.

_**Cichol and Co. Editorials **_

_**Our business is in faith itself **_

_**For all business inquiries, please contact us at...**_

Oooooh riiiiight. The memory of nearly drowning on the ship to Garreg Mach floats up in Hilda's mind. Honestly, the only reason she isn't fish food right now is because of that one guy with the stern-ish face who was quick enough to grab her hand and stop her from capsizing straight into the ocean.

And then had the balls to lecture her for a good twenty minutes afterward on the "improper length of your skirt" and "the propriety of the Saints" or something like that. Honestly, she only took his business card to shut him up because, really, who cares about the last five centimeters. Absolutely no one, that's who.

She stares at the card for a moment longer. Spins it in her hand. Some of the ink smudges off on to her fingers.

Hilda sighs. She swipes open her phone and begins typing the numbers into the keypad.

So maybe Garreg Mach isn't the city of her dreams. Not yet anyway. It'll take some work before it can be, which sucks but, eh. She can be a big girl about it.

For now.

"Hi, is this, uh... Misssssssster Seteth? Am I saying that right? Oh good. This is Hilda Goneril, the girl from the ship, do you remember? Yep, yeah that's me. Ha, well, sorry to say, but the jeans are temporary. Rest assured, once it gets warmer, I'm switching back to what's in style!"

Hilda glances out the window. Raindrops softly pelt the window, scattering into a dozen little paths that all lead to the same place in the end.

_Some dreams are worth working for._

"Anyway, I was wondering if your offer still stands...?"

* * *

So maybe working for a small (read: practically nonexistent) online news agency with a focus on faith-based miracles (read: really crappy magic tricks, like, seriously who even falls for the detachable thumb thing in this day and age) isn't _exactly_ close to her actual dream of starting up her own personal artisan store. Heck, it might as well be drifting away in the sky with how freaking far away it is.

But a girl's gotta eat before she can dream big and at the very least, working for Seteth means three meals a day, a roof over her head to shield her from the rain (which still hasn't stopped, _c'mon, _it's been months) and most importantly, access to a hot shower.

(The first time Seteth showed her to the shared bathroom in the back of the agency, Hilda nearly cried. And then she took a shower so long that it racked up the water meter high enough that Seteth snapped it was coming out of her first paycheck.

Still totally worth it. )

At least the work is pretty easy and straightforward. Get tip, go to interview, and then write about whatever the sucker claims they saw on their way to good ol' Saint Seiros. Usually, it's a light at the end of a tunnel or a chorus of angelic voices or blah blah blah. Hilda's personal favorite is the one guy who swore the afterlife was just a big dark room with a little green gremlin that judged all his life choices like a disappointed mother. Sounds legit enough.

Too bad the novelty pretty much wears off in the first ten minutes. Thank goddess for Mercedes. Hilda likes her well enough. She's sweet, with a personality that reminds Hilda of cotton candy. A bit spacey. Has the patience of all four saints combined, which is _great _because it means the people ramble to Mercedes and not Hilda. She _hmms_ and _ahas_ in all the right places, and Hilda can just pretend to take notes on her phone and browse Etsy for inspiration on new trinket ideas.

It's a win-win for everyone.

"So, where to next?"

Mercedes fiddles with the company car's radio, landing on a channel that's playing something very loud, very thrashy. She puts the volume to a bearable level and bobs her head along to the screaming, smile pleased as punch.

Hilda locks her phone. "Hmmm... Early lunch?" she ventures forth brightly, because hey, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

Mercedes flashes her a patient smile, one that says, _I respect you for trying, I really do. _

"I thought we could get a headstart on our next story. You know the one Seteth was talking about in the morning. The sunshine maiden." She drops her voice down a pitch, putting on the world's silliest impression of their boss. "Legends say she's still brightening up the sky even to this day."

Which means driving across Garreg Mach in their pillbox of a car and listening to some old coot ramble on about a local legend that Hilda could care less about. Yeah. Definitely sounds like a fun way to spend a lazy, rainy afternoon.

"I mean, we could. Buuuuuuuuuuut, and hear me out, we could also go to Byleth's and pick up some of those scones we like so much, eh, eh?"

"You can't keep using my girlfriend as an excuse to get free pastries, you know that, Hilda."

Hilda's about to reply when something catches her eyes.

A flash of blue. Shoulders hunched in a blue hoodie that's two sizes too big for her. Eyes that look like death warmed over.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Hilda clicks off her seatbelt, kicks open the door because it sticks and usually needs to be shown some tough love before it does anything. "Look, I gotta..." she wrestles the umbrella out of her purse and opens it. "I gotta go. I'll meet up with you there. Just, text me the address or something."

"Wha- Hilda, it's literally on the opposite side of the city! Where are you- Hilda!"

* * *

Tailing some, as it turns out, is way easier in the movies. At least in the movies, the camera pans to where the bad guys are going. And there's not a bucketful of rain to obscure the camera lenses. Seriously, she might as well be walking through a waterfall with how hard it's coming down.

And the two dudes with their arms around poor burger girl? Definitely the titular bad guys. Seriously, who dresses in a leopard print two-piece suit in broad daylight. Er, rain... light?

At least their atrocious fashion sense makes them easier to spot as they make their way down one of the seedier streets in Garreg Mach. A street that burger girl has no defensible right to be walking down. Nor does she looks like she wants to. Her umbrella is shaking like a leaf in the wind.

As they make their way into an alley, Hilda ducks behind a trash can and peers out. She chews her lip. Delicate flower that she is, Hilda's still fairly certain she can take on two goons who couldn't even make the extras list. She can give Holst a run for his money in an arm wrestle if she actually tries, after all. But burger girl could get hurt if she's not careful soooooo...

Plan B.

Fake it 'til you make it.

Hilda steps out, cupping one hand to her mouth. "Annette! Annette, hold up!"

Why Mercedes' roommate's name is the first name to come to her mind, Hilda has no idea. But it works. All three of them, including burger girl jump and stop in their tracks.

Perfect. Hilda lifts her umbrella higher and comes straight for them, woman on a mission.

"Oh mah gawd, Annette, I take one eye off of you and you end up getting lost, I swear to Sothis." She takes burger girl's hand in hers, ignoring the dumbstruck look on her face, and turns to the two bozos with a plaster smile. "Thanks so much for helping my friend find her way, she's terrible with directions, and the teacher will KILL us if we're late one more time."

One of the thugs actually takes a step back. "I thought you said she was 18!" he hisses to generic bozo A.

Bozo, A clearly the single brain cell of operation, frowns, stepping forward. "Wait a sec, which school do you go to? And why aren't you wearing a uniform?"

Plan C is to fake it until you can make a break for it. She bats her eyelashes. "Oh, you know, our school is pretty lax about that sort of stuff. Anyway, gotta go, byeeeeeee!"

"Hold up, you little-!"

Bozo A may be the brains of the bunch, but that's not saying much when there's only a single brain cell going around. He reaches a hand out, grabbing onto Hilda's shoulder, and honestly, that's _perfect_.

Hilda grabs his arm, twists around, and in a move that would've made Holst green with envy, _pivots_.

Bozo A screams and goes flying into the trash can with a loud metallic clang. Both burger girl and the other schmuck stare at the mess, jaws open. The umbrella actually falls out of burger girl's slack grip.

Faked it. Now time to make a break for it.

"Run!"

Hilda pulls burger girl into a sprint and starts running, ditching her umbrella into the wind. Burger girl lets out a surprised little 'eep!' and half-bows to Bozo A as they pass ("s-sorry, I'm sorry!") and what the hell, that's kinda cute and Hilda can't help but laugh into the rain as they race past the city lights.

* * *

The highrise they take shelter in, Goddess Tower Apartments, (ha, Seteth would've loved irony) is pretty much an abandoned dump in the middle of the city. Perfect for hiding away from scummy back alley con men. Not so great for hiding away from the rain, since every floor they go up seems to be missing the freaking roof. They're practically near the top before they find what looks like an old abandoned living room with partial ceiling and actual floorboards.

Hilda's in the middle of wringing out one of her twintails when burger girl speaks up.

"M-My name's not Annette."

Hilda tries not to start, because burger girl's voice is so quiet, it honestly sounds like a ghost. "Huh? Oh, no, yeah, that was just the first name that came to mind. Trust me, you look nothing like her." Hilda says, squeezing her hair harder. Gawds, she's so sick of the rain ruining everything about her appearance. "I'm Hilda, by the way."

"M-Marianne," she replies quietly, and oh thank Sothis, Hilda doesn't have to keep referring to her as burger girl in her head anymore. "I'm sorry for dragging you into that... mess."

Burger- dang it, _Marianne_ seems to have an apologetic streak the size of the sky. It'd be kinda annoying if it weren't for the fact that she looks like a puppy that's been kicked around one too many times. And that she actually, really does sound sorry. Like, "everything in the whole world is my fault, so I'm apologizing for that" kind of sorry.

"Uhh, last I checked, I was the one who dragged me into that mess, so don't sweat it. Besides, I owe you, remember?"

Something clicks in Marianne's face. "O-oh, you- you're that trendy girl!" she says, and then flushes. "I-I mean..."

Trendy girl. Really? Hilda's starting to feel a little bad for both of their nonexistent nicknaming skills.

"Don't sweat it." Better trendy girl than burger chick, at the very least. "What were you doing with those losers anyway? Got tired of flipping buns for the corporate machine or something?"

"I-I was actually let go the day before yesterday," Marianne mutters, and oh, hello foot, meet mouth. Her fingers clutching nervously at the hem of her hoodie and Hilda's starting to realize everything about Marianne is just, nervous. From the way her shoulders are set to the way she can't seem to look Hilda in the eyes. "I w-was seeing those men for a job in w-working in their c-club."

"Wha- are you nuts?!" That has to be one of the stupidest ideas Hilda's ever heard, and she knows stupid in the running-away-from-home-with-only-one-pair-of-socks kind of stupid. "You know that's how they run those scams, don't you? Chat up pretty girls like you, give them a loan, and then force them to work in their sleazy cabarets when you can't pay back the insane interest!"

So maybe Hilda's rehashing the opening to that one yakuza flick she streamed the day before on Seteth's laptop. But like, whatever, that's totally how they do things in the big city anyway, she's 99% sure.

"I was out of options," says Marianne, and she looks way too young to sound so world-weary and tired. "Nobody else was going to hire someone like me."

"Uhh, more like no one in their right mind would hire a minor."

"I'll be eighteen in two months."

Hilda makes sure to keep her face completely still because, really? She's two years older? That's... huh.

"Well, they're still not gonna someone who likes they're skipping out on school." Hilda shrugs, filing away that little tidbit for later. "Trust me, I would know."

"I doubt it," says Marianne, again with that same tired acceptance, and it's getting_ so_ old, _so_ fast. "I'm not like you. I'm cursed."

Oh boy. One of _those._

"Uhhhhhh'kay?" Hilda squints and... nope, nope she can't see it. "I mean, you look a little... tired, I guess. But that's nothing a good night's sleep won't fix. Or makeup, if like, sleep isn't your thing." Which sounds stupid, but you can never really tell with those chunni types, with their head in the clouds of their favorite anime and delusions. "Yeah, you don't really strike me as cursed."

"Oh, really?" Marianne lifts her head, and Hilda takes a step back in surprise at the sudden spark in her eyes, something on the edge of frustration and raw anguish in her voice. "Would someone normal be able to do _this_?"

She puts her hands together and closes her eyes, looking to all the world like the world's most pained prayer.

There are an awkward few seconds where Hilda waits and...

Nothing happens.

Of course.

_God, why do all the pretty ones have to be so weird?_

"Right. Okay. I'm just going... you know," Hilda begins to say.

And then stops as the rain begins falling _upwards._

"I- what the...?"

Hilda watches, slackjawed, as Marianne continues praying. She watches as the rain continues to go up, up, up, into the sky, slowly petering off into a light drizzle and then, into nothing.

Hallucination. It's totally a hallucination, brought upon Hilda's intense desire for one day where it doesn't rain, and she can see the sun. There's no other explanation for it, obviously, because pretty prayer girls who also just so happen to be waterbenders? Yeah, get real.

And then the sun comes out from behind the clouds, and Hilda knows, just knows, that it is _real. _

So real it _hurts_.

"Do you see now?" Marianne lowers her hands. The single ray of sunlight that falls onto her form doesn't match with the resignation in her eyes. As if she knows the horrible way this will all end. "I told you. I'm not normal."

_Legends say she's still brightening up the sky to this day. _

A sunshine maiden. An honest to goddess, girl of the sun. The stories were true. Nature's own remote control. She should be freaking out right now, questioning her sanity at the very least.

And yet, there's only one thought that goes through Hilda's mind as she raises her hand to shield her eyes from the first few rays of sunshine she's seen in months.

_I never knew the sky could be so beautiful. _

"You're right. You're not normal. You're _awesome_."

The sunshine girl nods her head along in sad acceptance- and then jerks back when the words finally process in her brain.

"I-I what?" N-no..." she shakes her head furiously. "No, I-I'm not. How... Can't you see- it's not normal. I'm a _freak_."

"The freaking best! I mean, look!" Hilda stretches her hand out even further. She can practically feel the sky rushing through her fingers. "Maaan, I'd forgotten just how warm sunlight could be."

Poor Marianne. She looks so lost and confused. It makes Hilda want to reach out and pinch her cheeks and help ground her from floating away.

"I...How... You..." She pauses. Takes a deep breath. "How... how are you not scared out of your wits by all...this?"

Fair question. "I am. A little bit," Hilda says honestly. "But like, I'm also way too happy right now to even think about being weirded out. I mean, look!" she points up, laughing in delight at what she see's. "It's the _sky_."

Marianne cranes her head upwards, just a fraction, a confused little tilt.

"It's... always been there?"

But Hilda just shakes her head, willing the sunshine girl to see what she sees. "Yeah, but it's so much more than just that. It's so blue! And big! And like, for the first time in forever, it feels like... like..."

She reaches her arm out further, trying to take all of the sky in the palm of her own two hands.

"Like life is worth living again. Like it's worth _thriving _in."

A smile is the only gift Hilda can give her right now, so she puts on the best, brightest one she has, one that'd make the sun jealous.

"Thanks for bringing back the color into my life, sunshine girl."

"O-oh!" The color that Hilda's compliment brings to Marianne's cheeks is very pink. Coincidentally, it's also very cute too. "I... I... ummm..."

Marianne's entire form is trembling like a leaf in the wind. Hilda reaches out, taking her hand in hers. They're surprisingly warm. Soft too. Hilda decides she likes the feeling. A lot.

"Y-you're welcome," says the sunshine girl, and when the tears start to flow, Hilda just laughs and reaches out to hug the sky a little closer to her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

"Pay per... weather?"

"Yeah, you know, like, pay-per-view movies. But instead of movies, it's for the weather, instead."

"Pay-per-view was before I was born." Marianne carefully sets the tray of dumplings on the table, her free hand pushing her century-old Ipad, along with the rest of the clutter, to the side. Hilda's never seen a more disorganized room in her life, filled with all sorts of knickknacks and crap. Books lying around on the floor, mostly fiction judging by the covers, a stack of bills and old receipts wedged in the cracks of the threadbare sofa, and cutely enough, a little white unicorn plush with a crooked wing on top of the futon. The only part of Marianne's matchbox apartment that's relatively organized is the corner where the small Shinto shrine dedicated to the Goddess is.

Cluttered, but cozy. A definite lived-in feel, even if it's a bit stuffy. Hilda makes a mental note to ask to open the windows next time, but oh wait, just kidding, no she won't 'cuz it's _still _raining, ha HA. It's been months. _Months. _The weather people are calling a freak meteorological phenomenon brought on by the perfect disaster blend of global warming and lunar phases because they're pretty much clueless. Hilda calls it absolute crap because that's what the rain is doing to her hair and wardrobe.

Marianne snaps the disposable chopsticks in half, passing a pair to Hilda. "Um... do you prefer soy sauce or vinegar?"

"Ketchup, actually."

Politely disgusted is the only way to describe the face Marianne makes. Hilda manages to hold it all in for a grand total of five seconds before she's cackling hard enough to choke, and a few seconds later, Marianne joins in too, hiding her shy little giggles behind a fist.

Together, they demolish the plate of potstickers, Hilda talking all the while, gesturing pointedly with her chopsticks while Marianne listens on attentively. Hilda can't remember what she talked about for the life of her. Something dumb she did in the past, maybe. Or about to do in the future. Doesn't matter. By the time the potstickers are gone, Marianne's laughed about three more times and actually snorted once, so Hilda's counting it as her win.

There's a world outside of this tiny apartment, but at the moment, all that really exists is the rain drumming softly on the windows, a full stomach, and a little warmth to be shared between them.

"I still don't feel... comfortable asking people to pay for the weather," Marianne admits once the table is cleared, the dishes cleaned, and the Ipad booted up in front of them. She's switched to more comfy clothes- a familiar navy-blue hoodie that she's practically drowning in and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose that make the grey of her eyes twenty times bigger. And twenty times harder to concentrate. (Past Hilda never really saw the appeal for glasses when contact lenses existed, but oh boy, past Hilda was an idiot and shouldn't have been allowed rights.)

Marianne worries the bottom of her lip, fingers idly tapping the screen. "It all seems... I don't know. A little... underhand?"

"You see, that's the problem." Hilda plops down next to Marianne, leaning casually into her shoulder, inwardly cheering when the taller girl stiffens for only a second before relaxing into it. Marianne is so obviously touch-starved that it makes Hilda want to somehow shrink her down to mini-plush size and carry her wherever she goes and give her hugs at least once an hour, maybe even twice because hugs are freaking great and Marianne deserves a freaking truckload of them. "You gotta stop thinking it's like we're scamming people and start thinking of it like a business!"

Pretty grey eyes blink confusedly back at Hilda and- focus girl, focus. Stare later. And maybe when she's not looking (wait no, that's creepy. But when then aghhh.) "But... we are... scamming people?"

"Not according to the good ol' law of supply and demand, we aren't. Think of it like this. Say some folks want a nice summer wedding, or the circus is in town that day. Great right? But oh, would you look at that, it's rain. Rain all day, every day, blagh." She puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, leaning back even further into Marianne. "Oh, if only the sun would come out for a few hours so that I could get married and catch the clown show right after!"

"Because that's what people do when they get married," says Marianne with only a touch of dryness, a small smile on her lips, and Hilda couldn't be prouder.

"Maybe the clowns are the ones getting hitched, you don't know, hush." Hilda nudges her back, and Marianne relents with another small giggle that sends a pleased little flutter into Hilda's chest. "Point is, people want the sun, right? Boom! We give it to them! All for the low, low price of..." She does some quick mental calculations. Garreg Mach ain't a cheap city at the end of the day, for the newlywed or the clown people and especially not for two girls on a shoestring budget. "...$59.99. Plus tax."

Marianne's horrified expression tells Hilda precisely what she thinks of that reasonable price. She quickly changes tracks. "Highballing it, obviously. Look, don't think of it as a scam and more like a public service and where we get donations in return. Like a shrine maiden!" Nothing like a shrine maiden, to be honest, but a little white lie never hurt anybody in the grand scheme of money-making, of course. "Besides, wouldn't you like a little more spending money for yourself? Get yourself a Christmas in July present."

At the mention of the word present, Marianne's expression turns thoughtful. "It is a bit much... but her birthday is coming up soon..." she admits quietly, more to herself.

_Her_? Uh, _hello_? Before Hilda can ask who "_her_" is, Marianne clears her throat hastily "Umm... $20," she counters, almost apologetically. "A-and no tax."

Goddess bless this cinnamon roll and her stupid, big heart. "$40. _Yes tax_. C'mon, Mari, a girl's gotta eat!"

After the price is settled ($25 plus a transportation fee), the two of them start on the website for their pay-per-weather service. Which somehow is way, _waaaaaaay _more work than Hilda anticipated because apparently, making a webpage from scratch isn't as simple as copying and pasting pictures from the Internet into a Word doc. Turns out, there's actual effort involved. Not to mention coding. Coding. _Ugh. _

They spend the next few hours jumping from one online video tutorial to the next and making absolutely no progress. Marianne gets up to grab snacks and water. Hilda distracts them both by clicking on the recommended video feed and getting sucked into the Youtube equivalent of the Wikipedia hyperlink game. Who knew equestrian care videos could be so zen?

Hilda's in the middle of one video titled "_So you've got yourself a miniature pony, what now?_" and internally debating whether or not she wants to splurge the rest of her paycheck on nabbing one for herself (because those little feetsies, so _small, c'mon_) when she hears the front door open and shut.

"I'm home!"

The lights flicker on, and Hilda lets out a surprised hiss as the brightness assaults her eyes. She lifts her head, blinking the spots out of her vision.

A girl, probably no older than 12 or 13, stares accusingly back at her. She's dressed in a cute little yellow rain slicker, the hat covering the shock of white hair flowing down the back.

"Uhh... heya." Hilda raises her hand and gives a little wave. "Welcome back?"

The girl drops her red backpack on the ground, never once taking her eyes off Hilda. "Sis, who's this?"

Marianne, who's been quietly dozing the past half-hour or so, cheek in her palm, suddenly startles awake. "Wha- oh, Lysithea. Sorry, I didn't hear you-" the rest of her sentence is cut off by an enormous yawn. "Sorry. Ly, this is Hilda. Hilda, my little sister, Lysithea." Another yawn as she stands up, rubbing at her eyes. "Let me get your snack."

"After school snacks are for children," her sister mutters petulantly but trots off to follow her into the kitchen. Not before she gives Hilda the stink eye again, though. A few more years and she'll have the suspicious/disapproving look down pat, but right now, it's about as threatening as a kitten falling into its bowl of milk.

Hilda gives her another cheery wave before turning back to the tablet and tries not to eavesdrop on the hushed conversation coming from the kitchen.

Ha, yeah, right. She's _totally_ eavesdropping.

"I... think we still have some granola bars left over. Or I can cut up some apple slices if you'd like that instead."

"I told you, I don't need an after-school snack."

"Hmm... Pudding cup?"

"...yes, please."

Hilda hears the fridge open, then close.

A beat of silence. And then...

"Is she your girlfriend?"

Hilda flinches so badly that she accidentally closes twenty tabs worth of useless videos in one fell swoop. From the kitchen, there's a sad, splat sound, followed by a distraught, "_My pudding!_"

"W-what? N-no, I... No!" Hilda can't see it, but it's not hard imagining Marianne's face turning into tomato sauce. "She's not... Hilda's a... a _friend._"

"Since when do you have friends?"

"_Lysithea!_"

"You've never invited friends over before."

"Yes, well..." and from there, the conversation devolves into hushed whispers going back and forth. Hilda strains her ears as hard as she can but no dice. The rain hitting against the windows is louder than whatever they're saying.

Without warning, the sliding door slides open with a bang, and Hilda puts on her best innocent face as Lysithea marches back into the living room, pudding cup in hand, spoon in her mouth, all business. Marianne trails behind her, shooting an apologetic look at Hilda.

"I don't know you." Lysithea takes the spoon out of her mouth and points in straight in Hilda's face and d'awwww that is _precious_. "And I don't know what feminine wiles you pulled on my big sis ("S-She did nothing of the sort!"), but I'm not that gullible. I've got an IQ of 180, and I know at least fifteen different ways to get you legally incriminated for crimes you may or may not have committed, with no conceivable way to link any evidence back to me. And in seven of those scenarios, you're the one turning yourself in." Her glare intensifies as she takes another spoonful of her pudding and pops it straight in her mouth. "So you better watch yourself, buster. Or _else_."

Precious and _precocious_, well, that's just freaking lovable. There's some very clear sibling worship going on here, not to mention a protective streak to boot.

Hilda glances over to Marianne. "180 IQ?"

"Self-tested, apparently," says Marianne in a way that's only a little exasperated, a _lot _proud.

Lysithea bristles. "The Garreg Mach Official Webpage for Health and Sciences is a completely reputable and reliable source, I'll have you know!"

"Sure is, shortstack," Hilda says indulgently, enjoying the indignant way Lysithea splutters and how Marianne has to turn away to hide her smile. "I think you and I are gonna get along just fine."

"Speaking of webpages," Marianne intervenes, gently pushing her sister to sit down at the table before she explodes, "how's ours coming along?"

Hilda glances at their work. "Uhh, pretty good? I think?" If pretty good means that their website looks like the horribly disfigured love child of MS Paint and the first page of Google Images, then yeah, it's going _great_. She flips the tablet around. "See for yourself."

Marianne makes the same face she did when Hilda asked for ketchup for her dumplings. "A-ah. It's... lovely."

"It's an eldritch abomination, that's what it is." Lysithea gags into her pudding cup, and Hilda's too impressed that an apparent grade-schooler knows how to string the words eldritch and abomination together in a sentence to be offended. "I think I went temporarily blind. Did you even use a stylesheet or JavaScript?"

"I don't think Instagram has those filters last I checked."

"Oh my goddess- gimme that!" Lysithea swipes the tablet, and Hilda backs away, hands raised. "I can't in good conscience subject the general populace to this mess."

It's like watching a particularly prickly elf from Santa's workshop work their magic, and for the next few hours, Hilda watches on in thinly veiled amusement as something resembling an actual respectful website begins to emerge from the corpse of their first failed attempt. Marianne's sister definitely knows what she's doing, even if she refuses to build on Hilda's feedback- "Ooooh, can you give the sun a little smiley face? Like the one in Teletubbies!" and Marianne's cautious suggestions- "Er, m-maybe _not _exactly like the one in Teletubbies?"

But she's also just a kid, with a kid's internal clock and bedtime. Somewhere between 10 PM and line five thousand of her code, a switch is flipped, and the younger girl conks out like a light. Hilda helps piggyback her to the futon, waving off Marianne's simultaneous apologies and thank-you's.

"We're not really sisters," she admits once Lysithea is tucked in and snoring. "She's adopted. Well, we both are. Were. They're... they're gone now." Marianne smoothes some of the hair back on her sister's face, a sad smile playing on her lips that she's probably not even aware of. "She's all I have."

"Well, that's not true." Hilda sidles up next to her, nudging her gently with her shoulder. "You've got me now too, don't' cha?"

That gets Marianne's attention, and she jerks her head up, surprise etched all over her face.

"I...I suppose I do," she admits shyly as her smile turns hesitantly warm, and Hilda grins, seeing a small glimpse of the sun in her lips.

* * *

"I'm not wearing that," are the first words out of Lysithea's mouth when she sees what Hilda is holding. "It's humiliating."

"Since when are _teru teru bozu_ humiliating?" Hilda thrusts the _bozu _mask into Lysithea's face, who bats it away with an offended hiss. Ungrateful little weenie. Not like she was the one who had to sacrifice an entire Saturday evening to painstakingly paint and assemble the whole costume. "They're adorable!"

"Since when do _teru teru bozu_ have neko ears?"

"Because they're adorable, what are you not understanding." Hilda pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the stares from the rest of the _Teautes Taichi Over Sixty Society_ gathered in the park on this beautiful (rainy) Monday afternoon. Most of them look older than Hilda's own grandparents, and with any luck, they'll be just as nearsighted because between the three of them, they still haven't thought up a proper excuse on how Marianne can suddenly make the sun appear out of nowhere, other than '_oh wow, what a funny coincidence, hahaha can we have our money now please and thank you.'_ The best they can do is just play along into good old superstition, which would work better if _certain _gremlins played along and put on the freakin _teru teru bozu_ costume, for crying out loud

"Lysithea," says Marianne quietly but firmly, just as her sister gears up for another round of _don't-wanna's _and _you-can-make-me's!_ "Hilda worked very hard on your costume, and it'd be rude to not try it on at least once, right?"

Her little sister grumbles, but she snatches the mask from Hilda's hands. She doesn't put it on though and fixes Marianne with a petulant pout. "This is demeaning. I have an IQ of 180 for Sothis's sake! Why do I have to be the one to do this?"

"Well, there is another option..." Marianne trails off. "But it's... a little..."

Wordlessly, Hilda pops opens her umbrella. Miniature _teru teru bozu_ bedazzled in every offensive color imaginable swing cheerfully from their strings, smiling maniacally in the rain, free from their umbrella prison to wreak havoc on the sight of every living thing within visual range.

Lysithea plunks the mask over her head without another word.

Finally. Now they're getting somewhere. "Alrighty then." Hilda lifts the umbrella over Marianne's head, who has to duck or risk getting clubbed in the eye from one enthusiastic doll. "Work your magic!"

Marianne glances back at the umbrella, looking extremely unsure of the whole plan. But then her gaze slides to Hilda, and the wary look in her clears just a fraction.

"A-alright then." She steps beneath the umbrella, shoulders just barely brushing against Hilda's. She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands together.

"Here goes."

And then the sunshine girl begins to pray. Hilda watches on as Marianne murmurs a prayer that only she can hear, lips moving soundlessly along. Behind them, the little ghost of a teru teru bozu hops up and down, waiting impatiently for the rain to end.

The first to notice the single ray of sunshine peeking out of the clouds is the event coordinator, who's loud surprised shout draws the attention of the rest of the crowd. Then there's a chorus of hushed gasps, sharp intakes of breath as the clouds begin to part.

When the sun actually begins to shine, someone lets out a loud cheer. Within seconds, people are following along, laughing, cheering, clapping, and generally losing their minds as they experience their first taste of the sun in months. Hilda swears she can hear someone sobbing in the background, but she's not sure.

Marianne finishes her prayer, lowering her hands, blinking owlishly as the sun hits her face. At the sight before her, she steps back in surprise, looking supremely uncomfortable at all the attention. But before she can get away, the event coordinator, a burly man with a mustache that any self-respectable trucker would've been proud of, appears out of nowhere, cutting off her escape.

"You did it! By Seiros, you girls did it!" Everything about him is loud, especially the booming grin on his face. "I haven't the foggiest idea how the three of you managed to pull the sun from out your pockets, but I won't look a gift wyvern in the mouth, no siree!"

Without warning, he picks up Marianne, Hilda, and a fairly miffed _teru teru bozu_ into a crushing bear hug, laughing boisterously all the while before settling them down again. "I suppose I'll just have to _weather_ on the mystery until then, eh?" He waggles his eyebrows, and Hilda remembers just in time to laugh politely along, loud enough to cover up the gagging noises coming from their ungrateful little _teru teru bozu. "_In any case, on behalf of all of us here, thank you girls so very much."

"Oh, i-it was nothing," Marianne stammers out, looking a little dazed and overwhelmed by the sheer personality of Trucker-stache. Hilda can't blame her. He reminds her a bit of Holst times ten, plus puns. "Nothing... nothing worth praising."

Trucker-stache's eyebrows nearly shoot off his face. "Nothing worth praising? Why, I beg to differ, miss! You deserve nothing but praise! Heaps of it, in fact. I mean, look over there!" He gestures grandly at the park. "What do you see?"

Marianne looks nervously to where he's gesturing, and then to Hilda for guidance. Fat lot of help that'll do. All Hilda sees is a bunch of old folks about to get their yoga on. Riveting stuff that. "I-I uhm, don't quite follow?"

"A smile!" The way he says it makes it sound like the most obvious, wondrous thing in the world. "A smile on every face! Pure joy and not a frown in sight!" He lowers his hand, still beaming, and Hilda wasn't sure before, but now, she thinks Trucker-stache is pretty alright in her book, atrocious puns aside. "I'd say that sight alone is worth praising, don't you think? You've have something special in you, miss, mark my words. A precious gift that no one else has!"

Marianne and the _teru teru bozu _suddenly freeze in place, and Hilda realizes just then that oh- oh crap. Trucker-stache may be alright, but he's just unwittingly stepped on a _minefield_.

Emotions flash across Marianne's face, flickering too fast for Hilda to see. Just before Hilda's about to do something very loud and very, _very_ stupid so that they can get the heck out of dodge, screw the paycheck, Marianne opens her mouth.

"You... you really think so?" Her voice trembles as she raises her head to look at him, the raw vulnerability as clear as the blue sky above, and for a second, Hilda feels her own chest clench. "I... this is... a gift?"

He looks down at her, surprised. But when he sees the look on her face, something like understanding flashes in his eyes, and he puts a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"The power to bring smiles wherever you go?" He stares her straight in the eyes, patient smile never faltering for a second. "Why, if that's not a gift from the Goddess herself, well, I don't know what is!"

Marianne is silent and expressionless for all of a second. And then, slowly, like a wall being torn down brick by brick, her face crumbles. She buries her face in her hands as a ragged sob is ripped out of her throat. But there's no pain in the sound, just an overwhelming sense of relief.

"I..." The tears flow freely, drowning out the sound of her voice as she tries hopelessly to wipe them away. "I-I..."

And Hilda reaches out without thinking, grabs Marianne's arm and hugs her, hugs her tight to let her know that it's okay, it's all okay now. And Marianne collapses into the hug, sobbing quietly into the crook of Hilda's neck like her life depends on it and when the _teru teru bozu _rushes into the hug too, sniffling sounds coming from inside the mask, Hilda doesn't say a word. She just holds them as close as she possibly can to her heart.

"Well, would you look at that," says the event coordinator, head inclined to stare straight up into the clear blue sky. "A sunshower, this time of year." He inhales deeply. "How wonderful."


	3. Chapter 3

Business really starts picking up near the end of spring, when summer vacations start and festival season really starts kicking things into high gear. Makes sense, since no one wants to spend their entire summer suffering indoors because of the rain. Sure, it means even more work for Hilda since requests start pouring into the website ranging from the grandma who needs an hour or two of the sun out so she can dry the laundry to the Garreg Mach National TV Station requesting them personally to stop the rains so that they can cover the annual White Heron summer festival, but heck, she can't complain. To quote the patron saint of commerce herself, "business is booming!"

Of course, with all the influx of requests doesn't mean they can accept every single one of them, no matter how hard Marianne tries to. Turns out, hiding beneath that adorably shy little face is one ginormous bleeding heart. That Hilda loves her for, really. It's just that, grade-schoolers and little ol' grannies don't exactly roll in the cash and you can't exactly pay rent with gumballs, pretty marbles, or old people cookies. And that's if Hilda and Lysithea can stop Marianne before she says something along the lines of "O-oh, no, there's no need for that. Free of charge."

Unsurprisingly, convincing Marianne to actually accept payment as the sunshine girl is Hilda's unofficial second job, right after being the official manager for the sunshine girl. Go figure.

And even then it's not always smooth sailing. Because some days it's just work and some days, it's work with a capital W. Those days are the worst, where they have to trek all over Garreg Mach and the customers are rude buttheads and try short them on the cash and just, everything that makes the job not. Fun.

But... Hilda has to admit, even then, the worst days aren't all that bad. Because at the end of the day, she'll still end up back at Marianne's little matchbox apartment, where it's warm and dry and comfy, and there's a hot cup of tea waiting and the outside world doesn't exist. She'll sidle up as close as she can to Marianne on the couch, resting her head against Marianne's shoulder as the taller girl reads off another request for the sunshine girl off her tablet. Lysithea will be dozing on and off against her sister's knees, trying to stay past her bedtime and failing somewhere halfway.

The rain will patter softly against the roof, mixing in perfectly with Marianne's soft voice and Lysithea's gentle snores. Hilda will lean back, savoring the light flavors from the tea and finally, finally, feel like she can breathe again.

Sure some days, it all feels like work. But even then...

It's not so bad when there's a place called home she can come back to.

"I haven't seen you around the office as of late," Seteth remarks one slow afternoon on her way out of the office.

Hilda pauses, one hand in the middle of putting on her sandals, the other on the door handle. "Uh, I guess?" Warily, she lets go of the doorknob. It's been close to a year since she started working at Cichol and Co., plenty of time for her to learn and identify the many scowls and frowns of Seteth. For example, the frown he has on right now is less, , there are at least 17 punctuation and grammar errors in this piece, fix them immediately, and more, Ms. Goneril, this is my puzzled scowl, the one I use when I don't want other people to know that I'm puzzled.

"That's not a problem, is it?" She sure hopes not. They've got a pretty important gig for the sunshine girl lined up in a few hours, and out of all the requests they've gotten, this is NOT the one she wants to show up late for. She shifts her weight to the other leg, resisting the urge to look at the exit. "If this is about the piece on the crazy sewer rat people, I already sent it over to Mercedes to proofread."

Seteth shakes his head. "I know. Ms. Martritz showed it to me before she left for the day. Some minor cosmetic errors aside, it's acceptable to be published as is." He regards her carefully, and it takes Hilda to realize the look in his eyes to be... respect? Wait, really?

"I must admit, your writing has improved leaps and bounds since you first started working here. Seeing such progress is no less than impressive." Her boss continues on, oblivious to the mini heart attack that Hilda's having at because her boss, eternal frowny emoji, perpetual stick in the mud,Seteth, just complimented her, of all people.

"Ah, but to answer your earlier question, no, there is no problem. I was simply curious as to what has you coming and going so frequently as of late."

"Uhhh..." Right, words. Hilda's still trying to unstick her brain from the last minute. She shakes her head. "Oh, yeah, no, I'm just heading out to my second job is all."

Seteth's eyebrows disappear into his hairline, and for the first time, Hilda gets to see an expression other than a grumpy frown on his face. "Oh. I had no idea you were also employed elsewhere."

Oh. Oh, crap, this isn't one of those breach of contract things, is it? Not like she signed an official contract when she started working here, but still.

"It's more of a local charity thing I do with a friend," Hilda hedges, which is technically true. Ish. For the past couple of sunshine girl gigs, she's been secretly siphoning off her share of the paycheck into Marianne's bank account. Which sounds absolutely nuts and entirely out of character, even to her. But then again, Hilda's not the one putting her younger sister through school or buying groceries or struggling to make rent each month.

Or maybe it's Marianne's big bleeding heart that's finally getting to Hilda. Whatever.

" I don't have to quit, do I?"

Seteth strokes his chin sagely for a second before shaking his head (bullet dodged there, hoo boy). "As long as you finish your work here before the deadlines, I see no issue with it. Though your timing is rather fortuitous."

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a piece of paper, because of course someone as tech-hating as Seteth would still use pen and paper instead of shooting off a simple text. "If you are going out, might I trouble you to pick up a few things from the convenience store?"

"Sure thing." She takes the list and gives it a quick scan. It's mostly the usual stuff- coffee, milk, a few instant microwave dinners, an absurd amount of eggs because eggs are the only thing both she and Seteth can make safely when Mercedes isn't around (never mind they both had to look up a tutorial on YouTube on how to properly boil them, the important thing is that the kitchen's still in one piece and they haven't lost the security deposit).

It's only near the end when Hilda notices something different. "Two bags of gummy worms and a pack of... dried anchovies?" She hits him with a quizzical look. He's either making the world's most disgusting pizza or those pregnancy cravings are really starting to kick in.

"Oh, those aren't for me." Faint embarrassment rolls off of him as he crosses his arms, and Hilda tries not to stare. It's the full spectrum of Seteth emotions on display today, who da thunk? "Those are for my daughter."

"Ah right, right." Hilda nods understandingly. That explains the gummy worms, though the anchovies are a bit odd still, but then again, what growing kid doesn't have weird taste buds? There was a phase when she was younger where she wanted mustard on everything. Even her dessert. Thank the Goddess she grew out of- "Wait, you have a daughter?!" Hilda gapes. "You're a father?!" Since when?!"

"Oh, I didn't mention that?" For once, Seteth looks honestly surprised. "Strange. I was sure Ms. Martriz would've at least said something to you if I hadn't."

Mercedes actually hasn't been around the office much either lately, but that's not important. What's important is that her boss, who looks barely older than Hilda's own brother, has a daughter. A. DAUGHTER.

Seteth is digging around in his pockets again. "I have a picture of her somewhere in my wallet. Ah. Here we are."

He hands over a faded looking polaroid (a polaroid, of course, he'd have it on a polaroid). Younger looking Seteth without the goatee looks back at her, wearing a matching smile with the little girl with adorable little curls riding on his shoulders. A little to the side is a woman with the little girl's eyes and smile, clapping and laughing as she watches on.

"Her name is Flayn," Seteth says, sounding every bit the proud father that Hilda never knew he was. "She'll be starting middle school in the summer, weather permitting."

"She's adorable. I'll take ten of her." Hilda says, only half-joking, as she hands the photo back, not missing the way Seteth eyes soften the smallest fraction as he glances at the picture. "How come I've never seen her around here before? You should bring her and let us spoil her rotten!"

As soon as the words leave Hilda's mouth, she knows she's made a mistake. The smile on her boss's face stiffens and cracks.

"Currently, Flayn is in the care of my sister. Her aunt." He pockets the photo before glancing off to the side. "She has been taking care of her ever since my wife passed away."

"Oh." Ohhhhh crap. Nice job, strolling straight into that minefield there, Hilda, you go girl. If only she'd left two minutes earlier, she could've avoided this whole awkward setup, but noooooo, she just had to waste time looking for that one blouse Marianne had said looked cute on her. "That er...that sucks."

That gets a humorless sort of snort out of him, but at least the wooden smile goes away. "You have such a way with words, Ms. Goneril." He remarks dryly. "And to think, I was just praising you on your writing improvement before this."

He straightens up and runs a distracted hand through his hair. "It is what it is. To be completely honest, after the accident, I was in no state of mind to look after myself, let alone a child. Rhea made the right decision, stepping in when she did before things could get out of hand." He gives a rueful shake of his head. "My wife would've never let me live it down if she saw the sorry state I was in. She had a tongue on her that could've made a sailor blush, and she used it often whenever she thought I was in one of my 'moods.'"

The way he speaks about his wife is so fond and so different from the stern boss Hilda's come to know. And it's so strange too. True love like that? That kinda stuff only exists in fairy tales and bad anime. No one in her own life could ever make her feel like that, to the point where'd she'd just shut down and not care anymore. No one.

No one...

"But that's enough reminiscing," Seteth says suddenly, jolting Hilda out of her thoughts. He takes a glance at his watch and grimaces. "Ah, my apologies. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Will you still be able to make it to your other work?"

Oh, right. The sunshine girl gig. The one gig that she did NOT want to be late for... and the same one she's currently running late for- oh CRAP.

"Yeah, no, I'm- okay." At least, Hilda sorely hopes so. She's going to have to call Marianne and tell her she's going to maybe be a bit late. Crap. "Gotta go. See you later, boss."

She finishes putting on her sandals, and one hand's on the door when she stops. There's a question niggling in the back of her mind, and she turns around, catching Seteth's eyes.

"Do you miss her?"

The question leaves her lips before she realizes, asking if your boss misses his dead wife? Maaaaaay not be the most tactful of questions to ask when said boss provides lodging, food, and a paycheck, cripes. "Sorry. That was like super insensitive," Hilda quickly backpedals, feeling her cheeks heat up. "You don't have to answer or anything, my filter was off and-"

"Every waking moment," Seteth says simply, surprising Hilda into silence. He's staring at her, but there's a faraway look in his eyes that tells Hilda that he's not really looking at her. Not really.

"Not a day goes by when I wish I could see her again," he says softly, looking into the distance, "I would make a deal with Nemesis himself if it meant I had the chance to see her again, one more time."

She's not sure she's supposed to hear the last words he mutters just as she shuts the door. She's not even sure he realized himself what he said.

"One more day, to be a family again."

"You look a lot younger than I thought you would."

That's the first thing the lady in charge says when Hilda finally makes it to the Garreg Mach National Broadcasting Station, the largest TV station in the country. Her eyes narrow judgingly as she looks Hilda up and down, tight red ponytail bobbing along with the motion.

"Shouldn't you still be in school?"

Standing there in the lobby of Fodlan's most-watched news station, Hilda puts on her best customer service smile and silently tries not to freak out. Because this job is the one she really, really needs to go absolutely right and she's already on two strikes. TWO.

Strike one was arriving nearly half an hour late, strike two was thinking business casual meant coming dressed in a summer crop top, cut off shorts and sandals and not the professional blazer suit the lady is wearing and strike three is everyone getting wind that, oh yeah, she really SHOULD be in school and absolutely NOT working this only semi-legal job.

"I get that a lot." Hilda manages to choke out. Maybe if she smiles harder, she'll be able to distract the lady from overthinking the strangely youthful appearance thing. "Baby face. And really, really good genes. Like, the best."

The lady purses her lips, crossing her arms. Hilda tries not to fidget or- oh god, does she have some food stuck in between her teeth, is that why she's not saying anything oh crap, oh god, where's a reflective surface when you need one?!

Finally, after a stretch of silence that has Hilda sweating bullets, the lady sighs and uncrosses her arms.

"Whatever. If you kids can do what you say can do, then I'm not gonna question it." She turns around, making her way to the elevator. Hilda only catches a brief glance of the nametag on her chest (Sevene? Selera? Bizarre name to be sure) before she gestures impatiently to follow along.

"Your friend is already here, by the way," she says, punching the button and striding in when the doors open. "Makeup and wardrobe departments should just about be finished prepping her."

That snaps Hilda out of her nervous silence. "Uhh, hey, hold up, that's not what we agreed on." The lady glances at her, looking bored, but Hilda doesn't let that intimidate her as she speaks up. "We make it super clear on our website that pictures or recordings aren't allowed. The sunshine girl works 100% anonymous."

"In this day and age?" the lady says, and then holds up her hands when Hilda bristles. "Relax. No cameras, no video, I remember what you said over the phone. Think of it as a freebie."

Slowly, Hilda lowers her shoulders. "A freebie?"

"Sure." The lady sticks her hands in her pockets and leans against the wall. "The White Heron Festival only comes once every five years after all. You kids might as well look the part and enjoy yourselves while you're still young."

An electronic chime comes out of the lady's pockets, and she takes out her phone, face pinching into a scowl when she reads what's on the screen. "That is if these stupid rains stop long enough for us to get some good shots of the festival and fireworks," she grumbles, stowing her phone away with a huff and massaging her neck. "Gawds, what is this 100% humidity for the next three weeks crap. Should've stayed back in Ylisse instead of taking a job here."

Oh, well, now that's a tangible problem with a very tangible solution, provided by yours truly. "Not to worry, ma'am." Hilda snaps off a smart salute. One last time to promote the sunshine girl brand. "We're professionals. Absolute satisfaction or your money back guaranteed!"

Ooooh, that's a good idea, actually. Shame that this is their last job for a while, though. She definitely could've made Lysithea add that to the website to rake in the hits.

The lady rolls her eyes again, but she's making a face where she's amused but trying not to be amused, but Hilda can totally tell. Seteth makes that same scowl-smile all the time.

The elevator dings! and the doors slide open.

The view that greets her is nothing short of breathtaking, all of Garreg Mach laid out before her, glowing mutely in the rain. This high up, it feels like she can just lean forward and pluck the city lights one by one and hold them in her hand.

"Whoa," is all Hilda can say.

Behind her, she hears the lady snicker. "Never gets old."

Hilda opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a familiar voice rings across the roof.

"Hilda! Over here!"

Oh, finally, a familiar face. Hilda turns around, apology already working its way out of her lips. "Mari, hey, I'm so so so sorry for coming late, there was this thing at work aaaaaaaanduuuuuhhhh..." she trails off, feeling her heart stutter to a stop.

The light indigo yukata Marianne is wearing is absolutely gorgeous, the soft violet highlights complementing the natural paleness of her skin along with the deep blue obi tied around her slender waist. But that's not what catches Hilda's attention.

Marianne self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting on the spot, and Hilda can't help but stare at just how much of her face she can finally see now that her bangs have been pinned back. Somebody on the makeup team really knew their stuff because, as far as Hilda can tell, there's only some light lipstick and a hint of blush on her cheeks. And maybe just a dab of mascara to really bring out her eyes. Like, really bring them out. Have her eyes always been so big?

"How... how does it look?"

The shyness is in Marianne's voice is different. Like, there's something almost... brave mixed in with the vulnerability, something that Hilda can't put a name too. The sudden onslaught of butterflies in her stomach is also super distracting, rude little biters. Wait, there was a question earlier, right? Oh crap, how long has she been staring silently like an idiot?

A not-so-subtle elbow nudges into her hip, followed by a pointed cough from the lady, and Hilda blinks back to the present.

"Amazing," is the next embarrassing thing her brain decides to blurt out. Amazing, really? So smooth, girl.

Well, judging by the flush to Marianne's cheeks, she didn't NOT like the compliment. Might as well go all out on the second-grade adjective vocabulary at this point.

"Gorgeous. Drop-dead stunning," she presses on, giddiness in her chest growing as Marianne turns redder and redder before hiding behind her hands. "Heart attack in a yukata."

"I-I think I get it!" Marianne peeks shyly out from behind her fingers, which are as delightfully red as her face. Who knew that was even possible? "You l-look amazing as well."

That's always a given, but in right now, Marianne's the one who completely takes her breath away. Compared to the taller girl, Hilda might as well be the stubborn weed growing in the cracks of the pavement.

Holy crap. Is this what it feels like to be self-conscious but in a good way? WILD.

A catchy little ringtone breaks the silence, startling both of them. The lady pulls out her phone, glancing at them apologetically.

"Sorry, I gotta take this. You guys just go ahead and do your thing, alright? Oh, and feel free to catch the fireworks from here when you're done. Best view in the city, hands down."

She turns around, heading back to the elevator. Hilda catches a brief whisper of her conversation before the doors shut.

"Hey, Noire. What's up? Nah, I'm good to talk." A brief pause, and then her shoulders hunch in an almost embarrassed fashion, "Oh. W-well, I missed you too! Times one hundred!" before her voice fades away.

Awww, cute.

Marianne clears her throat, and Hilda turns back to her. "Should we get started?" she asks, bashfulness fading away to her serious on the job face, now that it's just the two of them. Also cute as hell too.

Hilda pops open the umbrella, teru teru bozu swinging happily in her face, and gives Marianne a grin.

"Ready whenever you are."

The sunshine girl prays, and like clockwork, the clouds move on, and the setting sun comes out, basking the city below in the fading colors of dusk.

Marianne lowers her hands, taking a second to take it all in, before swaying worryingly to the side. In a flash, Hilda is next to her, arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"Whoa, easy there." Hilda slowly lowers them both to the ground, careful to not jostle Marianne more than necessary. "You okay? Need a second?"

Marianne shakes her head. "I-I'm fine," she says in a way that Hilda doesn't believe her for a second, but she lets it go, deciding to bring it up later, after the festival.

"Just... a little woozy is all." She rests her head against Hilda's shoulder before letting out a small chuckle. "I suppose it's a good thing you and Lysithea convinced me to take a break after this job."

"Only 'cuz you turn into an absolute workaholic when we let you have free reign," Hilda teases back, even as she mentally bites her lip. The dizzy spells and exhaustion, not to mention how it seems to take just a little longer for the rains to stop are actually kinda worrying. Normally, Hilda would write it off as just the usual fatigue that comes with working a job that has her running every which way over Garreg Mach, but Marianne's a special case. Since, you know, she can control the freaking weather just by praying really, really hard.

Convincing Marianne to take a break was a battle in of itself. What a time to find out that her stubborn streak ran just as deep as her gotta-make-everyone-happy streak. Lysithea had to pull out the baby sister card along with Hilda's own urges to finally convince her to stop. And Hilda knows for a fact that Lysithea hates pulling out the little sister card.

A sharp whistling sound suddenly, followed seconds later by a chest-rattling boom breaks Hilda out of her thoughts. Marianne lifts her head, exhaustion forgotten as her smile turns into pure delight.

"Oh, they're starting!"

They lean back and watch as the fireworks being lighting up the night sky, each brilliant flash of light louder and more eye-catching than the last one. Back home in Leicester, they had fireworks too, but nothing as flashy as this. Which makes sense since the White Heron festival only comes around every five years. Might as well go all out and blow the budget if you have to wait that long.

There's a small lull in the fireworks when Marianne suddenly speaks up again.

"I just realized," she lifts her head from Hilda's shoulder, catching her eyes. "I never did thank you."

Hilda blinks, mind finally catching up to her thoughts when she tears her gaze away. "Uhh, thank me?" she asks, looking away. Wait a second, why is she turning away. Focus, girl. "For what?"

"For..." Marianne begins, and then pauses, thoughts visibly running across her face. "For... everything, I suppose." She folds her hands together, thumbs circling against each other. "If I hadn't met you, I would've never been able to be here, in this moment. I'd never have the courage to become the sunshine girl."

This focusing thing is failing spectacularly. "Yeah, well," Hilda coughs, running a hand through hair and completely undoing about an hour's worth of prep work."I can't take all the credit. 'Cuz, you know, I'm not the one with the superpowers." She coughs again. "Besides, being the actual sunshine girl? Soooooooo much work."

But Marianne just shakes her head. "I love it," she says with so much honesty and warmth that it makes Hilda's stomach do a funny little flip. "I love being the sunshine girl and everything about it. I love how I can bring a smile to someone's face just from making the rain stop. I love hearing children laugh when they can feel the warmth from the sun on their skin again. I love how, for the first time in my life that my power feels less like a curse and more of like... like a blessing."

She takes a breath, voice practically vibrating with a barely contained enthusiasm. "Even on the bad days, I love it all, every single facet of it. But most of all..."

Her voice suddenly tapers off as she hesitates, the bout of courage vanishing away. But then she takes another breath and stares Hilda straight in the eyes.

"But most of all..." she says softly, words melting into the night. "I l-love that I feel so alive when I'm with you."

A firework chooses right at that moment to go off, scaring the ever-loving crap out of Hilda. They both jump away, laughing nervously, even as Hilda mentally screams.

You know, what screw the White Heron festival. Fireworks suck. White Herons suck. She was so close. This close to... to...

To what exactly?

The hammering in her heart wants to know.

Hilda chances a glance over at Marianne from the corner of her eyes. The taller girl is staring resolutely at the ground, ignoring the rest of the fireworks. In the brief flashes of light, Hilda can see the soft pink on her entire face, working it's way down to even to her shoulders.

It's the most beautiful sight Hilda's ever seen.

Slowly, because the last thing she wants to do is horribly misread the situation and spook the other girl, she inches her hand across the space between them, keeping her eyes focused resolutely on the blazing sky above.

When their pinkies brush, she feels Marianne stiffen, and she immediately stops. Crap crap crap. Too much, too soon?

But then a second later, she feels Marianne relax. Slowly, her hand moves over Hilda's as she laces their fingers together.

The warmth Hilda feels from Marianne's is hotter than any firework.

She chances another glance. Marianne is still looking at the ground, though the pink dusting her cheeks has graduated to full-on raging blush. A strand of hair has made its way out of her braid again, and without thinking, Hilda reaches over with her free hand and tucks it carefully behind her ear.

Marianne looks up right at that moment, catching her eye, and Hilda freezes.

Is this okay? Too fast? Too slow? Too much? No clue. Hard to think with how loudly her heart is pounding in her ears, louder than even the exploding fireworks.

But then Marianne answers the question for her and leans forward, capturing Hilda's lips with her own.

It's not Hilda's first kiss. But kissing Marianne makes it feel like her very first, soft and slow, a little hesitant, a little shy, but warm, so, so warm. Hilda just wants to pause time to memorize the feel of Marianne's lips against hers, the soft, breathy sigh that escapes the corner of her mouth, every little detail to etch itself into her memory.

Another firework (seriously what the HELL) makes them separate. Hilda's a little out of breath. Her heart wants OUT.

Marianne stares back at her, eyes wide enough that Hilda can see the fireworks reflected in them.

"I... I..."

That's all Marianne can get out before she gives up entirely and buries her face straight into the crook of Hilda's neck, bowling them both over. Hilda goes down with a yelp and a breathless laugh, holding on tight to Marianne as the fireworks light up the night sky in time with their hearts.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next week or so, Hilda's pretty much floating on Cloud Nine. Life's great, there aren't any pressing deadlines coming up, her bank account is looking hella fine, and best of all she kissed a pretty girl beneath the fireworks during the White Heron festival and even better yet, a pretty girl kissed her back .

And it was awesome.

In fact, Hilda's in such a good mood that Marianne only has to twist her arm a lil' bit to convince her to accept one last job, despite the hiatus notice they put up on the website. Then again, rules are overrated, and like hell she's going to say no to Marianne when she pulls out the sad puppy face.

Besides, once she sees the requester, Hilda's only choice is pretty much sir, yes, sir!

"I thought you didn't believe in all that magic hocus pocus stuff."

The look Seteth shoots her is just shy of being dry, held back by his amusement as he shifts to make room for her on the park bench. "You do realize that I run an editorial company that publishes nothing but the 'magic hocus pocus stuff' as you so put it."

"Oooh, is that blasphemy?" Hilda leans forward, edging right into her boss's face. She knows she's pushing his buttons, but today, she wants to see what she can get away with, what with him being in a fantastic mood and all. "That sounds a lot like blasphemy."

He opens his mouth to retort, but before he can, a delighted squeal from across the park interrupts him.

"Father! Look, look!" Flayn rushes up to where they're sitting, curls bouncing excitedly as she brandishes Lysithea's teru teru bozu mask in their faces. "Behold! Is this not the most charming little rain spirit you have ever laid eyes upon?"

"Undoubtedly," he says back, nodding with his serious look even as the corners of his lips curl upwards. Teasing Seteth is a rare form of Seteth that Hilda's never seen before, and frankly, he needs to come out more 'cuz compared to normal Seteth, this one's a riot and a half. Though to be fair, Flayn pretty much draws that sort of response out of everyone, what with her adorable way of speaking and just being her excitable little self. Hilda's probably known her for a total of twenty minutes, and already, she's debating whether or not she can bribe her boss into handing Flayn over so that she can spoil her rotten.

She's even won over Marianne's shyness in record timing, convincing the taller girl to show her how to do her particular braid. And that was before she managed to wheedle both Marianne and Lysithea into a game of fish tag (not quite sure the rules on that one to be honest) with Mercedes refereeing from the sidelines.

Once Flayn turns around to rejoin the group, Seteth lowers his hand, fond smile still in place. "Regardless, you girls have my sincerest gratitude for accepting my request. I understand this is to be your last job until the foreseeable future?"

Hilda waves him off. She and Marianne have saved up enough between the two of them that they'll be okay for a while, jobs or not. "No biggie. Besides, who can say no to that face?" she says, gesturing to Flayn, who's listening with rapt attention as Lysithea recites off random fish facts that she learned from... somewhere. "You got any more of her lying around to spare?"

"Just the one and I am rather attached to her, being her father and all, so I'm afraid you're out of luck."

Welp, you miss every shot you don't take. "Boooooo." Hilda sticks her tongue out, and Seteth actually throws his head back and laughs. Well, it's more like a controlled chuckle, because the day Seteth actually lets out a full-blown laugh is the day the sky falls down, but whatever, still counts.

"You know, just for that, this is my bench now." She nudges him in the side, forcing him to get up. "Go on, shoo. Sun's not gonna be out forever, ya know."

Her boss does his version of hesitating. Crossing his arms and glancing over to Flayn with a look on his face that says that he really wants to go over but doesn't have a good enough excuse to go over.

Ugh. Men.

"I wouldn't want to intrude. This is Flynn's day after all."

Meeeeeeeeeen.

"You go in there and be a fun, funky father, or I'm telling Flayn the time you had to look up a YouTube tutorial on how to properly boil an egg."

"Half your paycheck still comes from me, I'll have you know, Ms. Goneril."

But that seems to do the trick, and with one parting eye roll, he heads on over to the rest of the group. He scoops up Flayn from behind, eliciting a delighted squeal from her, and the two take off as Lysithea chases after them with Marianne trailing behind.

"Very sneaky of you." Mercedes plops down on the bench next to her, fanning her face with her sun hat as she gives Hilda an all to knowing smile. "Giving him that little push."

Can't hide anything from Momcedes. Hilda hands over a water bottle with an innocent blink, which Mercedes accepts with a grateful nod. "Hey, it was either that or listen to him gush for another two hours."

"Yes, how dare he act like a proud father to his only daughter," agrees Mercedes with an exaggerated huff, laughing when Hilda shoves her in the shoulder. "But that's enough about that. How are you doing? We haven't had all that much time to talk, what with all the goings-on happening around here."

That's true enough. Between Hilda's second job as the unofficial spokesperson for the sunshine girl and Mercedes's ongoing job search, it's actually a small miracle when they're both in the office at the same time nowadays.

"I'm doing good," Hilda says honestly. Mercedes raises an eyebrow, and Hilda rushes to clarify. "I mean, work's work. Seteth still tries to give me too many pieces before a deadline, and the office's fridge is on the fritz, so we have like two dozen packs of eggs to eat before they go bad, but..."

Unconsciously, her eyes drift over to where Marianne is. She has Lysithea in her lap, demonstrating to Flayn and Seteth how she does her braid. Flayn is nodding excitedly. Seteth looks serious enough that Hilda's half-expecting expecting him to whip out a pen and paper and start taking notes. Lystihea says something, probably something both snarky and endearing, and that gets a laugh out of Marianne, even as she tries to hide her smile behind her hand.

"But it's not so bad," Hilda finishes with a small smile of her own.

Mercedes follows her gaze. "Ah. I see," she leans forward on her elbows, looking side-eyed at Hilda with a playful smile. "So. That's her. The illustrious sunshine girl. The one who's got you so smitten."

The only reason Hilda's cheeks are burning is because she's running a vitamin D deficiency thanks to all the clouds covering up the sun all the time and NOT because of Mercedes waggling her eyebrows at her.

"Smitten, who even says that anymore," she huffs out, crossing her arms.

"Oh?" Mercedes smile turns Cheshire. "So are you saying you DIDN'T spend an entire paycheck ordering materials to make a promise ring for her or am I misread-mmmph!"

"SHHHHH!" Hilda slaps a hand across Mercedes's mouth. "Not so loud, are you nuts?!" She glances over to the others. This time, all three of them are taking turns to braid Seteth's hair, who's expression is hilariously stoic. With a relieved sigh, she removes her hand.

"Just my luck that you had to be the one to answer the delivery man that day," she gripes as Mercedes's eyes twinkle. "It was my name on the package!"

"Just imagine if it was Seteth." Mercedes chirps back, and Hilda can't repress the shudder that runs up her spine because yeah, she's got her there. Could've been a lot worse. A lot . "How's it turning out, by the by? Can I see it? Pretty please?"

The smart answer would be no, but Hilda knows that Mercedes can be relentless when she sets her mind to it. With another glance to make sure the other's aren't looking over, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a small box.

Mercedes flips it open with a finger. Her eyes widen. "Oh. Hilda, this is... you've outdone yourself."

"You think so?" She may be an expert in crafting trinkets and accessories, but actual promise rings are on a whole nother level for her. The materials alone already cost her a small fortune. And since this was her first time ever trying to make one, the best she could do was a plain silver band with small, cut blue rhinestone in the middle. She twists the ring doubtfully in her hands."It's not too simple or boring, is it?"

"Hilda." Mercedes raises her head, looking at her seriously. "It's beautiful. She'll love it, trust me. That girl is as smitten with you as you are with her. Half the conversation I had with her was her asking about you and what you're like at work."

"Really?" Hilda says, a little too fast, and Mercedes laughs again when she blushes even harder.

"Really truly," she teases, and Hilda decides to just shut up right then and there before she can make an even bigger numbnut of herself. She turns away, staring off into the distance as her smile slowly softens.

"Look after each other, okay?"

Hilda glances quizzically over at her. There's something in the way she says it that makes her sound oddly pensive. But then again, this is Mercedes they're talking about. She can make any sentence sound ominous just by adding a little smile to the end.

Even though she's not smiling now.

"Suuuuure? I mean, not like we're not already doing that." Hilda scooches closer. "But what are you talking about? Did something happen?"

"Nothing," Mercedes says immediately and then pauses. "Just something silly I heard a while back. Forgot about it until now and... it's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Mercedes. What are you talking about."

The strawberry blonde's lips twitch. "It's just a superstition I heard. Like bad luck for walking under a ladder and the number thirteen. Nothing concrete."

She falls silent, long enough that Hilda starts to fidget in place. Finally, she lets out a sigh and pulls out her phone.

"Remember when we were doing research for the sunshine maiden before Seteth had us drop the story for lack of sources?"

"A... little?" Hilda frowns, trying to think back. "Wasn't it because the only guy alive who still remembered the old legends is like, 105 and super senile?"

"106," Mercedes corrects gently. "And remarkably coherent when the weather is just right." She scrolls down on her phone and opens up the notes app. "I did an interview with him, just to be thorough, and he said some things that I thought were... well..."

She chews the inside of her mouth a second before thrusting her phone into Hilda's hands. "See for yourself."

Alriiiiiight. Somehow that's ominous even without the smile. Bewildered, Hilda takes the phone and begins scrolling. Mercedes notes are still as neat and meticulous as Hilda remembers, and she quickly skims through the least exciting parts of the interview. Whoever the geezer is, he still has to ramble on for a good portion about everything and nothing. A few words stick out though: sunshine maiden, prayers to the goddess for the rains to stop, bountiful spring harvests, blah blah blah.

It's only near the end when she reads the words ancient and catastrophe put together, does Hilda sit straight up.

And the rains will continue to pour, no matter how hard the maiden of the sun prays for them to stop. The lands will flood, returning to the ocean from whence they came, unless the maiden offers unto the goddess the boon she has been granted. And thus, the maiden of the sun will return once again to the goddess, as all things should, for the rains shall only cease when-

"Excuse me?" Hilda stops reading right there, because this has to be a joke, right? A really off-brand joke that'll be funny in an hour or two, but not right now because it all hits in the wrong way. "This is... what is this crap that I'm even reading? It's a joke, right?"

"That's what I thought too," Mercedes interjects gently, laying a hand over Hilda's, and it takes Hilda a second to realize that her nails are biting into the folds of her skin. "I just wrote down the notes and took his account and forgot all about it afterward."

Mercedes hesitates for a second before going on. "But then you went and found yourself an actual, honest to goddess, maiden of the sun, and just like that, his story came back to me. And I thought..."

She trails off, and for the first time since Hilda's known her, she looks a little lost.

"I thought you had a right to know."

Hilda snorts. She can't help it. Better to be skeptical than to acknowledge that creeping feeling curling up her spine. "To know... what exactly? Some stupid old fairy tale about one really rainy summer and that the people lost their minds their roofs leaking a bit much? Cool. Neat. Reality imitates fiction. Soooooo funny."

"To know that at the end of every summer, the goddess would descend upon the earth, taking those who bear her Crest as a sacrifice to the darkness of Zaharas to halt the impending calamity," Mercedes finishes quietly, and Hilda snaps her jaw shut hard enough that it hurts. "Or so the stories go."

"And that's all they are!" Hilda leaps up from the bench. Her legs are itching like crazy, and she has the sudden urge to start running in place, or jumping up and down, to do something to get the restlessness out. "That's all they are. Just some lame old stories that people don't even remember anymore. Just stories!"

Even as she says that she realizes just how ridiculous she sounds trying to deny it. Apart from the brief moments where Marianne brings out the sun, she can't remember the last time the sun came out naturally on its own. Or if the rain has ever stopped since she got here.

Nobody has a clue as to why it's all happening. It's impossible, people say until somebody points out to them that they're living the impossible, right now.

"They're just stories," Hilda says again, repeating it again in her mind so that she can believe it herself. "They've got nothing to do with us. They can't."

Mercedes looks away and up into the sky. The blue of the sky is marred with the encroaching gray clouds. A little farther away, Hilda can hear the unmistakable low growl of thunder.

"For all our sakes," says Mercedes, eyes fixed on the rapidly darkening sky. "I hope you're right."

Seteth calls an end to their little playdate when Flayn starts having trouble catching her breath, and the humidity gets almost unbearable. The bus ride back to Marianne's apartment is unusually quiet what with Marianne being worn out and Hilda being... distracted. Lysithea even tries to make conversation, but after a few aborted attempts, she gives up and spends the rest of the trip exchanging not so subtle glances with her sister as the weather gets steadily worse and worse.

By the time they hop off the bus and make it back to the apartment, the light afternoon shower has fully upgraded into some kind of freak mini hurricane, complete with a torrential downpour and buffeting winds. There's a brief scuffle for who gets to use the bath first that Hilda wins (undefeated rock-paper-scissors champion in this house suck it).

"Hey, Mari," she sticks her head from out behind the bathroom door, shaking out the bands in her hair. "You remember if we did laundry yet? I can't find my towel... Mari?"

Marianne is standing in the entryway, staring out the peephole, her entire frame tense. Behind her, Lysithea is hanging onto the hem of her shirt, tugging nervously.

"Hilda," Marianne says carefully, not looking away from the peephole, and way she says it instantly puts Hilda on guard. "Could you stay inside the bathroom for a little longer?"

"What? Why? Who's out there?"

Marianne finally looks away from the peephole.

"I... I think it's the police."

Oh.

Crap.

Without another word, she ducks back into the bathroom, flips off the lights, and clamps her mouth shut. The police. Every single curse that Hilda knows runs through her head as she tries her best not to breathe.

Careless. Stupid, sloppy, careless. Of course, her parents would get the police involved after she ran away. It's gotta look bad on the ol' family name if they can't even control one headstrong daughter. She's only surprised it took them this long to get the authorities involved.

The low murmur of voices from outside piques her curiosity despite the fear. Carefully, she slides the door open just a sliver and peeks out.

Two men are standing just outside the entryway. The taller one is dressed entirely in black, a sour expression on his sunken face that looks like it could be right at home in some Halloween store. His partner, on the other hand, is an eyewatering display of brilliant orange and blue, bright face with just a hint of boyishness. He's the only one who at least looks slightly apologetic as he introduces himself.

"Ah, good evening miss!" He removes his cap and nods solemnly. "My apologies for bothering you this late. I am Officer Ferdinand Aegir, and this is my partner, Detective Hubert Vestra. Could we perhaps have a minute of your time?"

Hilda can't see Marianne's expression from this angle, but the unmistakable hunch of her shoulders and the way she tries to hide behind the door makes it obvious to everyone how she feels.

"O-of course, officers," she says, placing a hand on Lysithea's shoulder and gently pushing her behind her leg, out of view. "What, erm, s-seems to be the p-problem."

Officer Aegir opens his mouth, but the detective speaks up before him.

"Hilda Valentine Goneril," he says bluntly, and Hilda feels her stomach turn to ice. "Are you by any chance familiar with this individual?"

The pause that follows stretches on for a second too long

"...No," Marianne says after the pause. "I've never heard of h-her. Why? Did she do s-something?"

The detective and officer exchange inscrutable glances. "As of now, nothing, save for being a runaway," says the detective, his tone a dangerous mix of oil and ice. "But we have eyewitness testimonies saying she was seen in the company of known members of the organized crime ring, Those Who Slither in the Dark."

Those who- what?

WHAT?!

When?! HOW EVEN? Hilda nearly falls off her feet. A Slitherer? HER? There's no way she's interacted with someone that slimy since she got here. She didn't even know gangs like that could even exist in Garreg Mach before Seteth told her, for crying out loud.

"I... wouldn't know anything about that," says Marianne, arriving at the same conclusion as Hilda, the confusion in her voice completely genuine.

"Really. How strange," remarks the detective in an offhand way that the serial killers in movies use when they're discussing either the weather or murdering someone in their sleep. "Seeing as we have CCTV footage of you being accosted by known Slitherers, while someone who looks remarkably like the suspect helps you escape shortly thereafter."

Those two goons in the alley. The ones who were trying to get Marianne to come work in their sleazy cabaret and the one Hilda dumped into the garbage. Those guys, are you for real?!

" O-oh." Marianne sounds more than a little caught off guard. "Y-yes... I-I mean, no!" she stammers out when Lysithea tugs frantically at her shirt. "Th-that did happen... b-but I didn't k-know her, or w-who she was. She... she was just there at the time."

"Just there at the time..." the detective repeats smoothly, looming in the doorway. "How lucky for you then."

"V-very lucky." Marianne agrees in perhaps some of the worst false-acting Hilda has ever seen. "I-if that's all then..."

"Actually, could we perhaps speak to your guardians?" the officer pipes up, oblivious to how both Marianne and Lysithea visibly stiffen at the word guardians. He takes a card out of his wallet and hands it over. "We'd like to get their statements of events that day. For our records, you understand."

Marianne takes the card, says something, but Hilda doesn't hear her. She backs away from the door, sitting down slowly on the bathtub rim, palming her face as the last five minutes play out in her mind.

Shit.

How in the hell did this even happen? Everythings gone pear-shaped way too fast. In less than two hours, she's gone from Hilda Valentine Goneril, junior editor, unofficial spokesperson for the sunshine girl, to Hilda Valentine Goneril, runaway and suspected associate of Those Who Slither in the Dark.

What. The. HELL.

Hilda takes a deep breath. Focus. Getting pissed at some false charges isn't important right now. What is important is making sure their collective butts don't end up in some downtown juvie center in the morning because once they find out that Marianne's parents don't exactly, ya know, exist, then it's goodbye independence and hello foster care system for them.

...Seteth. She needs to call him. There's no way she can go back to her job now, not with the police breathing down her neck. She needs to call him and... and... ask for a vacation. A really, really long vacation. And maybe an advancement on her paycheck. Goddess, he's going to be pissed when she doesn't show up for work tomorrow. It actually hurts to think about it, saying goodbye without telling him or Mercedes anything.

She takes out her phone, hitting speed dial one. The dial tone rings in her ear, and she bites at a nail, bad habits resurfacing for the first time in years tonight.

He picks up after the first ring.

"Ms. Goneril." Her boss's voice comes out slightly strained, but Hilda chalks it up to the crappy service, thanks to the mini-hurricane going on outside right now. "This is a... surprise, I was just about to call you myself."

Hilda lets out a nervous little trill. She can't help it. She's so nervous that it's a small miracle that even remember her own name at the moment. "Oh, really? Small world, haha." Do it fast. Like ripping off a band-aid. "Hey, so, I know this is out of the blue and all, but I'm gonna need to take some time off. Like, a lot of time off."

She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for the sentence.

Like ripping off a band-aid, just do it.

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Goneril."

Her eyes shoot open.

"Uuhhh, say that again?"

There's a long drawn out pause.

"Certain matters have been brought to my attention recently," he says after the pause, and this time she knows the strain in his voice isn't from the crappy cell service. "Matters regarding your... status and family."

The cops. Of course they'd check the place where she works. It was probably the first place they checked. Of freaking course.

"What did they tell you." Her phone creaks dangerously in her grip. "What did you say to them? "

"Absolutely nothing," he answers immediately, and her grip slackens, just a fraction. "But... Ms. Goneril." He sighs, voice crackling in the speakers.

"Hilda," he says again, and she jolts. "I will be blunt with you. It will be in the best interests of all concerned if you seek employment elsewhere. You have to understand, this is a... delicate time, what with Flayn's custody hearing coming up so soon. I cannot afford that kind of scrutiny right now. Not... not when I'm so close to bringing her home."

There's a buzzing in Hilda's head, growing louder and louder. It makes the voice coming from her phone seem tiny and weak in comparison. She can't think. Can barely even breathe.

"I won't try and make any excuses." Seteth's voice is gentler than Hilda's ever heard it before, and it makes it everything somehow even worse. "But for what it's worth, I am truly sorry."

Hilda closes her eyes. She can't hear anything. The silence is deafening.

"Yeah, sure, thanks. Whatever helps you sleep at night, boss." The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, dripping with venom. "I'm sure if Flayn's mom was still around, she would've thought that you're doing the right thing too, huh?"

Hilda regrets the words as soon as they fall from her lips. There's a sharp intake of breath on the line.

"Go home, Ms. Goneril." Her boss's voice is missing the guilt from earlier, replaced with cold iron. "You may still be young, but we all have to grow up sooner rather than later."

And with that, the line goes dead.

Hilda stares dumbly at the phone in her hand. Burnt bridges and no going back.

The buzzing in her head is a dull roar. Everything's moving too quickly for her to keep up with. Everything turning wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Suddenly, the bathroom feels too small. Small, stuffy, stifling. Hilda stands up, staggers to the door, and fumbles it open.

The first thing she see's is Marianne sitting on the couch with Lysithea tucked in her lap. The younger girl has her face buried in her sister's neck as Marianne gently strokes her hair.

"I'll think of something," she whispers softly. Lysithea makes a sniffling noise, and her grip tightens. "I won't let them take us away from each other. Never."

Burning the bridge with Seteth was bad enough. But this? This guilt hurts like nothing ever before. This would've never have happened if she hadn't convinced Marianne to become the sunshine girl. If she hadn't run away from home. If they had never met.

But what's worse than the burning guilt, is the look in Marianne's eyes when she finally notices Hilda standing in the archway. The sadness in her eyes that morphs into relief when she sees her, the absolute trust in her small smile, as if just having her nearby makes her stronger.

As if a little bit of hope is all they need to survive the coming storm.

And Hilda can't lose that hope in Marianne's eyes. She can't.

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

"Let's run away."


End file.
